Getting the Perfect Distance
by KateWare
Summary: Equestrian AU. Clarke Griffin, beautiful, confident and daughter of millionaire Jake and Abby Griffin; an accomplished rider and fearless A circuit athlete. Bellamy Blake, arrogant, charmingly sardonic and a rider who tirelessly worked his way to the top and earned the right to compete against the best. The teenagers of Ark Trails are not without their drama.
1. Chapter 1

"Easy, Mist," Clarke murmured as she felt the horse's body tense beneath her. After a smooth corner, Mystique Elm spotted the second to last jump in the Hunter course. It was a gaudy looking fence covered in vibrant flowers, potted plants and bright rails. This particular course designer, Mark Stanton, was more well-known for his flamboyant decorating skills than difficulty setting. Mist's ears pricked instantly and Clarke could feel her grabbing at the bit.

She gave her a firm squeeze, allowing the large dappled warmblood to gallop forwards while remaining perfectly collected. Now, all Clarke had to do was to remain relaxed and keep her hands light. She had been moving up in the Jumper divisions lately, leaving the Hunter classes occasionally for the timed and fast-paced courses. And even though those classes weren't judged on style and performance, Clarke still had to make the ride look effortless – like a trained monkey could hop on and win. However, in _this_ class, she had to do just that.

The takeoff spot was there, a perfect distance – it was staring her right in the face. Clarke clucked, urging her horse faster and closing the distance. One, two, three…

Mystique had other ideas; her anxious energy could be felt through the saddle. Her stride opened and she rushed forwards despite Clarke's steady pressure on the reins. The mare spurted past the perfect distance – the horse stubbornly refusing all cues. _Damn_.

Clarke had to recover and salvage what was left of the fence. She sunk down into her heels and put weight against Mist's mouth systematically, a half-halt. Normally, this was her specialty, remaining cool in the face of adversary. Making it work. Getting through the course without a horse losing its mind and revealing to the judge its flaws.

Not this time.

Mist had her own opinions. They took off way to close to the jump and chipped. Clarke grimaced, having to round her back and throw her hands forward just to stay with the mare. The jump was awkward and not even Mist's spectacular form could save the course now.

When they landed, Clarke pushed the negative thoughts from her mind hard and fast. So their shots at placing were gone, but that didn't mean that they had to humiliate themselves. Although she was competing for fifteenth place at this point, Clarke wasn't going to give up and accept less. Why come all this way if you weren't there to play?

The next fence was an airy oxer and Clarke didn't plan on having her ass wind up in the dirt. She had to be patient and patience worked for Mist. She stayed cool and collected, waiting for the distance to appear. Mist's canter stride didn't change despite the chip, and it only took the littlest of urging to coax her to the right spot. She flew over the oxer in a perfect arc, knees squared and neck rounded.

Clarke smiled.

_. . ._

"Nice recovery there Clarke." Thelonious Jaha said as she exited the arena and dismounted. He was leaning against the railing and studying her.

Clarke unbuckled the chin strap of her GPA helmet. "Shouldn't have happened. I know she doesn't like those colored fences."

"Okay, well next time you know you have to steady her earlier." Jaha rarely ever argued with Clarke when she was this hard on herself. He knew there was little point. His dark eyes wandered past her and towards the weather-beaten man hurrying towards them. "Let Wick take Mist back to the barn. I need you in the schooling ring at three riding Bravado – someone's coming to look at him."

"Who?"

But Jaha was already gone, sprinting off towards the other ring to teach lessons for the younger riders. How he kept himself sane was beyond Clarke. Running an entire stables and managing his own show barn was stressful at best. His son Wells, however, helped supervise the business side of things and kept the establishment from falling apart.

"Ready for me to take him Clarke?" asked Wick, one of Jaha's best grooms.

She reached over and gave Mist a pat on the neck and a peppermint from her pocket. Mist eagerly licked the palm of her deerskin glove, leaving a trail of foamy slobber behind. Clarke then handed the reins over to the groom.

"Thanks, Wick," she said. "Don't forget to give her extra oats tonight."

"How could I forget with her reminding me all the time?" he replied, smiling.

Clarke grinned and gave Mist one last pat before her and Wick parted ways. As she passed the Hunter arena, heading over towards the blue and black temporary stalls, she noticed a couple of younger junior riders from one of the bigger Vermont barns. They were leaning against the rail, unbuckled Charles Own helmets covering perfect hunter hair. They watched Clarke as walked by. She couldn't guess their names, but they probably knew hers. Everyone knew who Clarke was whether she liked it or not.

"Hi," she said politely as she passed them.

"Hey," the shorter one replied, while the taller one remained silent.

As Clarke turned the corner next to the judge's booth, she realized the laces of her boots had come undone and bent over to retie them. She was a perfectionist and all her friends knew it. In class, they playfully teased her about her organization skills and proper manner.

"I don't know what she's so happy about." A sarcastic voice drifted from around the corner as Clarke straightened her back. It was one of the girls she had just walked by. "If I chipped in the way she did, I'd be using some of Daddy's money to take a vacation _very_ far away."

"Yea, especially riding a horse like Mystique Elm. I'm sure my boyfriend can ride that horse – blindfolded."

Clarke stiffened and her heart began to race, though she was careful not to express it. No matter how many times she heard the same shit, it never hurt any less. _Who needs to learn how to ride when her father owns half of Washington D.C? If I could ride the horses she did, I would win all the time._

If only they only knew how fresh Mist could be on an early Saturday morning or how frisky she got after good jump. If they could only see her wrangling with one of Jaha's temperamental ponies before an afternoon lesson; perhaps they wouldn't think she bought her way to the top of the show circuit.

Clarke swallowed a lump in her throat and pushed away the bitterness. She couldn't waste her time thinking about people like that. Right now, she had a job to do.


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy Blake liked challenges. And the twelve hundred pound beast between his legs was definitely a challenge. He grinned like Lucifer grinned when he fell from heaven. Banthos, the muscular, hot-headed Irish Warmblood, had his muscles coiled tight and was dancing side to side in anxious anticipation. He snorted and pawed at the ground in great sweeps.

Bellamy ran a calm hand across the horse's neck and spoke softly to him. Banthos immediately stopped prancing and flicked his ears back, listening quietly. The fur beneath his hand was hot and sticky with sweat. They had just finished their course and Banthos wanted more. Bellamy wanted more. The thrill, the adrenaline, the rush of jumping one of the most powerful animals, was what attracted him to the sport in the first place. Banthos was his horse, a horse that he put his entire life savings into, a horse that he trusted with his life.

"Kane, raise the oxer to five feet!" Bellamy shouted from across the arena. Banthos, suddenly alerted, shot up his head and reared slightly. Marcus Kane, Bellamy's trainer and father, smiled as he shook his head and walked over to adjust the single jump. His father wasn't the most prestigious instructor, not like Thelonious Jaha from Phoenix Farms, but he was known for his no bullshit riding and not sweating the small stuff. He was a rough rider.

Once Kane had walked away, Bellamy edged Banthos into a powerful, rocking canter –with only some difficulty. The stallion was about as wild as they came, but if you rode him just right, he looked like a million dollar, push-button warmblood. And Bellamy wouldn't accept anything less than perfection. As they cantered past the stands, he noticed a crowd beginning to form; a crowd mostly of awestruck teenage girls. Being one of only a few male equestrians definitely had its perks.

Bellamy and Banthos galloped around the corner. His horse tossed his head and threw up his front legs, snorting. "Easy boy, easy." he soothed, closing his legs around Banthos's wide girth. Bellamy loosened his hold on the reins slightly, allowing for the warmblood to stretch his neck and make collection easier.

They were now coming down the center of the arena, hard and fast. Banthos snorted and pricked his ears forward, chomping at the bit, desperate to go faster. However, if they galloped any faster they would run past the distance and straight into the wide oxer. Bellamy deepened his seat and in response Banthos flicked his tail angrily, not appreciating the added weight.

"You need to collect him more, your canter is too flat and you'll knock a rail!" Kane instructed from the center of the arena. Bellamy grinded his teeth and did what he was told – with reluctance.

The jump came up fast. _One stride, two stride, three stride…_

Banthos lifted his knees and his haunches coiled. He catapulted himself into the air with powerful leg muscles, completing a perfect ark over the blue and white oxer.

Granted, he over jumped the jump by about a foot.

Bellamy rocked backwards and pushed his hands into Banthos's neck. And for a moment – they were flying with Bellamy grinning like a love struck idiot.

They landed easily, perfectly – which of course led Banthos to buck excitedly like a rodeo bronco. The monster, the nearly uncontrollable beast, was rearing, snorting, hopping up and down like he was on oats with a double shot of crazy. Bellamy, Bellamy was laughing like an irrational cowboy, not even attempting to calm his horse. He let Banthos have his fun and waited out his little happy dance. He heard the girls at the fence whispering excitedly, while some of the parents and trainers that had stopped by to watch only shouted out their criticisms.

_Figures_. Spoiled children equal stuck up, prissy, arrogant parents. None of them knew how to ride. None of them understood what it meant to give up_ everything_ for something you loved.

Once Banthos had calmed down, Bellamy loosened the reins and quietly walked to the center of the arena. Kane was smiling wickedly.

"Quite the show you put on there." he chuckled.

"Needed to teach these over-privileged kids what a real jumper duo looks like." Bellamy replied and petted Banthos on the neck. His horse exhaled as if agreeing with his owner. Kane snorted and reached out to stroke Banthos on the nose.

"I'm sure I'll hear about this little incident from Jaha. Probably pissed him off because we're ruining his 'show environment' and reputation."

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "Thelonious can suck my jumper ass."

Marcus Kane slapped his son on the thigh, whether in approval or disapproval, Bellamy didn't know. "Go get your horse cooled down and meet me in my office when you're done. Your sister is looking at a new horse today."

Bellamy didn't argue. He would make sure Banthos was cleaned and cooled properly before putting him away. Unlike some of the richer barns, Walden Farms didn't supply its own grooms or mucking stuff, the riders did everything themselves. Bellamy doubted that the younger girls even knew what a bit, martingale or, for that matter, a pitchfork, even was.

As Bellamy walked out of the arena, he noticed a particular blonde striding past the arena and walking towards the Phoenix barns. Her long, wheat colored hair was mused and her expensive helmet was secured firmly at her waist by her arm. She walked with the confidence that only money and self-assurance could give.

Bellamy urged Banthos in the opposite direction, but not before appreciating how well Clarke Griffin looked in her breeches and tall, black boots. He had only spoken a few words with her and had seen her ride only a couple of times. Bellamy Blake had come to the conclusion that she was more trouble than she was worth. For now, he would stick with the Walden and Arcadia girls. He didn't need another stuck up bitch in his life – he wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Clarke Griffin was the type of girl that would break your heart and then go cry to daddy that she needed a new, million dollar horse to compensate for _her_ heartbreak.


	3. Chapter 3

"You have got to be kidding me," Bellamy said as he crossed his arms. He looked over at Kane who was standing beside him, leaning against the railing and tapping his fingers. "You're buying a horse for Octavia from _them_?"

Marcus Kane ran a weathered hand down his face. "Octavia wants to move up in the Hunter circuits. She's outgrown Lydia and without a proper horse, she'll get nowhere."

"Banthos is hardly a million dollar horse." Bellamy replied through somewhat gritted teeth, joining his father against the railing.

"Yes, but you're in the Jumper divisions. They don't care about style or performance, only how fast you can go." Kane looked at Bellamy and pushed his cowboy hat further up his forehead. "Your sister needs a horse that moves great and doesn't cost us our rent."

"Well then, Phoenix Farms is _definitely_ not the place to go shopping. Where we need to go is a state auction." Bellamy said. To say he was furious would be an understatement. He couldn't believe what Kane was doing. Octavia needed to get her ass out of the Hunter ring. Half the time she thought that their family had an endless supply of money and the rest of her time was spent acting like it.

Bellamy wouldn't let his kid sister become a spoiled bitch.

Kane, meanwhile, said nothing. A few minutes of silence ticked by before Octavia herself came bounding across the terrain. The smile chiseled across her face was contagious. She ran up and threw herself into Bellamy's arms smelling of fly spray and alfalfa. He chuckled. She hugged him tightly and he hugged her back. When she pulled away, her hair was sticking up at all ends and she looked like an overexcited monkey. Bellamy reached out and ruffled Octavia's hair. She swatted his hand away.

"Bell, I hate it when you do that." she grumbled.

Just to piss her off, he got her in a headlock and did it again. She jerked away and hit him in the stomach. Bellamy grinned down at his seventeen year old sister. Octavia was perhaps the only girl in this world that he truly loved. He would do anything for her; protect and care for her in anyway situation they happened to stumble across.

"I hear Kane is buying a fancy, push button horse for you." Bellamy teased. Octavia scowled and raised her chin defiantly.

"We don't own push button horses in this family." she said in a voice that Bellamy often used when talking about show horses. He was about to respond with a backhanded comment, but his father opened his mouth first.

"You two, the chestnut gelding just entered the ring." Kane interrupted. Octavia bounced up on her feet and climbed onto the rail. Bellamy looked across Octavia's form and his stomach fell about a foot.

Clarke Griffin just entered the arena riding the Phoenix sale horse.

She was wearing a dark navy show coat that probably cost more than Bellamy's Ford pick-up truck. Her polished, Ariat boots were cleaned so well, that Bellamy could most likely see his reflection when she trotted by. Obviously she didn't get the memo that she was showing a horse to a bunch of people from Walden Farms.

"Oh my God," Octavia shrieked. "Is that Clarke Griffin? _The_ Clarke Griffin?"

Bellamy rolled his eyes. His sister got star struck _way_ to easily.

"I'm pretty sure…" he mumbled staring down at his hands.

"She's like one of the best Hunter riders on the east coast! Her horse, Mystique Elm, is one of the greatest Dutch Warmbloods out there." Octavia commented, watching intently as Thelonious Jaha walked over towards them and as Clarke began to warm up.

Bellamy had to admit, the horse was beautiful and Clarke rode like she had been put in Equitation classes since the day she was born. The chestnut was a fluid mover and she often rewarded him with the slightest of rein. Her heels were perfect, her posture was perfect, her hands were perfect. Where was the fun in being perfect?

"…as you can see, Bravado is a smooth mover. He's super docile and still has years of a winning show career ahead of him." Jaha droned on. "Clarke's ridden him in several A shows and has won plenty of classes on him."

Bellamy didn't doubt it. She had built up quite the reputation around here, but then again, so had he. And his reputation didn't include_ just_ his riding skills. Bellamy had talents in other things too – like hooking up with the female riders.

"What do you think, Bell?" Octavia asked.

Bellamy gazed at Clarke, her thousand dollar outfit and outstanding eq. At that moment she happened to glance over at them leaning against the railing and her eyes met his. Her canter step faltered slightly, but she recovered nicely. She returned to concentrating on the horse and the light in her eyes immediately faded.

"She's not my type." Bellamy replied evenly.

He heard Octavia sigh next to him. "That's right, I forgot. You only like the crazy and wild ones."

Bellamy was suddenly quite fascinated with the ground. "Yeah," he said softly.

In the background, Kane and Jaha were still talking. Amazingly, they weren't killing each other. They were conversing like normal human beings. By this time, Bellamy surely thought this whole situation would have ended in a lawsuit. It's happened before.

"Let's see him jump." his father exclaimed, raising his voice.

Jaha cupped his hands to his mouth and called out to Clarke from across the arena, "Clarke, take Bravado to that three foot vertical next to the liverpool!"

Bellamy watched as Clarke and Bravado easily sailed across the fence back and forth. This gelding was definitely about as push button as they came, but Bellamy could tell – his sister had already fallen in love. He saw it in the way her eyes glowed and in the way she held her hands neatly in her lap.

"How much are you asking?" Kane asked, his voice surprisingly firm.

Jaha's reply was immediate. "Seventy grand."

Bellamy almost dropped to the floor and Octavia's face fell. Her whole world had just been crushed in a matter of seconds. There was no way they could possibly afford Bravado, the price was too ridiculous.

"Are you negotiable?" Kane enquired.

"No, I'm afraid not." Jaha replied shaking his head. Bellamy would kill the son of a bitch. He would kill him for breaking Octavia's heart. And he would kill Kane too for getting her hopes up.

"Look, I'm not willing to settle for _seventy grand_. Is there anyway –" Kane began.

"No."

"I have forty thousand, in cash, if he vets clean." His father pleaded. Kane never pleaded. Only for his little girl would he bargain with the devil. Bellamy glanced over at Octavia. Tears were welling in her eyes and her bottom lip was quavering. That's when he realized, the horse that she had been talking about for all these months, that was _this_ horse. She had been looking at Bravado all along. Octavia had her hopes and dreams set on him.

Bellamy did a damn stupid thing then –

"I'll work for you, at Phoenix Farms. I'll work for you for free until the horse is paid off."

No one spoke. Octavia turned towards him, her eyes wide. Kane's mouth was hanging open in utter disbelief at the notion that his son could be so selfless. Jaha was the only one who didn't seem fazed. He leaned back against the rail and studied Bellamy.

"You're the boy that breaks and trains your father's horses?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir."

"You're the one that owns that wild and out of control Jumper?"

Bellamy bit his tongue. "Yes, sir."

Thelonious Jaha was silent and deep in thought. By now, Clarke was walking Bravado around on a loose rein looking as if she wasn't curious about the conversation they were having. Bellamy was certain she was out of earshot.

"Alright," Jaha said after several minutes of silence. "You come and break _my_ horses and show _my_ sale horses, and I'll allow Kane to buy this horse. Do we have a deal?"

He extended his hand. Bellamy took it.

"Deal."

Bellamy Blake had just bargained with the devil in exchange for his little sister's happiness.


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke liked Octavia Blake. She liked the fact that she was so bubbly and _alive_. Everything she said and every gesture she made was wild and full of excitement. They walked side by side towards the Phoenix stalls with Clarke leading Bravado.

"I can't believe I'm actually going to own him!" Octavia squealed and glanced over at the chestnut gelding.

Clarke smiled. Octavia was different from the girls she'd normally hang around with. She didn't care about her appearance or the name brands on her clothes. Octavia said whatever came to mind and never apologized if she happened to curse – which was quite frequently.

"I'm just glad he's going to good home." Clarke replied, petting Bravado on the neck. "He's a great horse."

They walked into barn isle through the wide stone archway and were immediately greeted by whinny from Mist. Octavia gasped when she spotted Clarke's horse.

"You're so lucky to have her. Did you show her this weekend?" Octavia asked as they stopped in front of the wrought iron stall.

Clarke stepped towards the dappled mare looking out over her stall guard. The horse leaned forward as she approached, quickly lipping at the treat she pulled out of her pocket.

"Yeah, we competed in the Hunter Derby and some of the other smaller classes." she said, turning towards Octavia who was stroking Mist's nose gently.

"It's my dream to ride in an A show Hunter Derby…" Octavia whispered, her voice trailing off.

Clarke remembered that she had come from Walden Farms. Some of the riders who competed under Marcus Kane could only afford the county shows and not the expensive A circuits. Octavia was more fortunate than most, her father _was_ Marcus. Clarke had seen Octavia ride once or twice, she definitely had the talent. Then of course there was her brother…

"Don't you compete in the 3'3 Hunters?" Clarke asked, pushing away the memory of Bellamy Blake watching her ride. He was the very definition of trouble.

Octavia's eyes lit up. "Yeah, but dad says I can move up to 3'6 soon, especially since we have Bravado now."

"He'll take you far." Clarke gave Octavia the widest smile.

"I know he will, it's just that I can't believe…" her voice wandered off. Clarke saw Octavia's face grow distant. The other girl was obviously not thinking about Bravado anymore. She pushed a long tendril of black hair behind her ear and crossed her arms, looking disheartened.

"Come on," Clarke piped up. "Let's go get you two acquainted."

Octavia's demeanor immediately perked and she followed Clarke and Bravado to the Phoenix crossties.

. . .

Sometime later, Clarke and Octavia were both laughing together in the tack room eating pizza. They had been wandering around the Phoenix barn since this morning and Clarke was having fun showing Octavia around. Sure, the other girls were staring at Octavia with dislike, but Clarke scowled at them right back. They weren't used to seeing Walden riders around here.

"I can't believe your hair net smells this bad!" Clarke laughed and threw the disgusting thing back at Octavia.

"It doesn't smell that bad!" Octavia replied, indignant. She brought it up to her nose and sniffed. How she didn't throw up all over the tack room floor, Clarke didn't know.

"When was the last time you washed that thing?" asked Clarke plugging her nose and waving a hand in front of her face.

"You're supposed to wash them?" Octavia replied with all seriousness in her voice. Clarke shook her head laughing, laughing so hard that it made her stomach hurt.

"I know," she hiccupped. "What you're getting for Christmas."

"A rich polo boyfriend?" Octavia tried. Clarke cocked her head to the side and studied her. She was about to open her mouth when someone else stepped into the tack room. Octavia quickly stood up.

Bellamy Blake swaggered over, dropping a heavy arm over his sister's shoulder. She tried to wiggle free, but he held her close. "Hey, little Sis."

She rolled her eyes, but she was grinning. A look of worship filled her eyes as she gazed up at him. "Thanks… for Bravado."

"Don't thank me, thank Kane."

He pulled her closer, smiling – really smiling, and it was a nice look on him. He should try it more often. Then he glanced over at Clarke and his eyes narrowed, as if he just realized she was there, in _her_ tack room. The smile was completely gone and replaced by a hard scowl.

"What are you doing?"

Clarke glanced down at the food in her lap. It seemed pretty obvious what she was doing considering her show pants had pizza sauce all over them. "I'm –"

"I wasn't asking you." He turned to his blushing sister. "What are _you _doing?"

"She was showing me around the barn. Don't be an ass." Octavia punched Bellamy in the stomach before squirming free. "Now we're eating pizza."

He was silent for a moment. "Is this what you do in your spare time?" he asked Clarke.

"Oh, you're talking to me _now_?" smiling tightly, Clarke set her plate on the tack trunk and crossed her arms. "No, in my spare time I'm normally out schooling horses. It's kind of my job. What's yours? Spitting on kittens?"

"I'm not sure I should say it in front of my sister." he replied, his expression turning wolfish.

"Gross." Octavia made a face.

Clarke's mind filled with explicit images and she could tell by the look on Bellamy's face that he knew it.

"I doubt you could school a Walden horse." he added.

Octavia shoved her brother, but he didn't move. "Don't be a jackass. Please?"

Clarke glanced over at Octavia. Her face was wilting and her posture hunched. Clarke squared her shoulders and stared directly at Bellamy. "I could school that crazy warmblood of yours until he was push button."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

"I'd like to see _you_ try." he spat.

"Bellamy, stop." Octavia whispered, her eyes welling. "I like her."

Remarkably, her brother's eyes softened. "O…" He cursed under his breath and folded his arms. "O, you have friends."

"Not like Clarke!" she protested.

Bellamy glanced over at her, his lip curling. She wished she had a crop to throw at his head. In fact, she wished she had a horseshoe to throw at his head – it would hurt a lot more and probably shut him up. "They're your friends, Octavia. They're like you. You don't need to be friends with someone like _her_."

Clarke couldn't keep her mouth shut any longer. "What do you mean, someone like me?"

Bellamy tilted his head. His sister's eyes darted back from Clarke to Bellamy. "He didn't mean anything by it." she hurried.

Bellamy swore.

Clarke's hands clenched into a pair of fists. "What in the _hell_ is your problem?" she hissed.

Bellamy faced her, an odd look on his face. "You're my problem."

"Excuse me?" she said taking a step forward. "Last time I checked I didn't even know you and you _definitely_ don't know me."

"You are all the same." A muscle popped in his jaw. "I don't need to know you or, for that matter, want to know you."

"Good, because I don't want to know you either."

"Bell, knock it off." Octavia pleaded.

He smirked wickedly at Clarke. "I don't like that you're friends with my sister."

Clarke was pretty sure she had steam coming out of her ears. She wasn't the type to go around telling people off, but this guy was getting underneath her skin. He was arrogant and spiteful and for whatever reason, hated her. She said the first thing that came to mind.

"And I don't give two horse shits what you think."

He strode over to where Clarke was now standing. She took a step back and he followed her until her back was pressed up against the tack room wall. Bellamy bent his head, dark black curls falling just above his eyes. Heat rolled off his body in waves. "Listen closely. If my sister gets bullied and teased by –" He stopped and his gaze dropped to her parted lips. Something flickered in his eyes, but whatever it was faded quickly.

The images were back, darting before Clarke's eyes. The two of them. Sweaty and hot, making out in an empty stall. She bit her tongue and attempted to keep her expression blank. She could tell he knew what she was thinking by the annoyingly smug grin plastered across his face.

"You're dirty, Princess."

Clarke blinked hard several times. She gulped. "What?"

"Dirty," his voice was so low that even Octavia couldn't hear him. "You're covered in dirt… and pizza. Might want to get that cleaned up before you enter the show ring. Wouldn't want the judges knocking off points based on _how you look_."

There was a short pause before he opened his mouth again. "What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing," Clarke replied, wishing he would back up. With Bellamy this close, dressed in a polo and nicely fitting breeches, the feeling wasn't exactly comfortable. "I ride horses, it's a dirty job."

His lips twitched and he leaned closer. He smelled musky, a good kind of musky. Didn't he know that his sister was watching? "There are a lot more fun ways to get dirty," he breathed. "Not that_ I_ would ever show _you_."

Clarke had the feeling that he knew _all_ the ways to get dirty around here. A deep, red blush rose in her cheeks. "I would rather roll around in manure than get dirty in the way that_ you _have in mind."

Bellamy chuckled and spun around to face Octavia. "Kane wants to see you back at the barn."

Clarke stayed where she was, pressed up against the wall, until he had disappeared around the corner. She swallowed looking at a distraught Octavia.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry my brother is such a dick." she apologized.

Clarke was speechless.

"Please tell me he hasn't scared you off…" Octavia murmured. Clarke waved her hand.

"It'll take a lot more than that to scare _me _away." she replied pushing herself off the wall.

Octavia ran up and hugged Clarke then, a quick excited hug. "Good, I will see you tomorrow!"

And just like she bounced out the tack room and Clarke was left alone with her own pulsating heart.


	5. Chapter 5

Clarke automatically flicked the lead out of Mist's way as the mare stepped over to a tastier section of grass. But most of her attention was elsewhere. She was grazing Mist on a patch of lawn between the main barn and the large outdoor jumping arena, giving her the perfect view of Bellamy's ride on Jaha's horse.

Bellamy Blake, the asshole of all assholes.

Clarke told herself that she wasn't curious, that she wasn't the least bit interested in the dark haired, dark eyed boy. It was the day after their little incident in the tack room and she was still totally ticked off. Sure most girls found him incredibly cute, hot even, but Clarke wasn't like most Phoenix girls. He was a complete jerk. He wasn't going to scare her off from being friends with his sister.

Clarke wasn't the type of girl to be bullied, especially by _him_.

Thelonious Jaha was perched on the ring fence, watching every move the horse and rider made. He wasn't necessarily instructing Bellamy, but he kept a close eye on him, wanting to see just how well he could ride.

Clarke didn't know the details. All she knew was that Bellamy was going to be exercising and schooling Jaha's horses for a while. He hired him to work for Phoenix Farms, not to give Bellamy lessons. Jaha was probably just watching to make sure he could actually ride a horse _properly_ and not ride like a complete cowboy.

"Nice," he called as Bellamy and a flighty Thoroughbred finished a line of two jumps. "Take him around and try again. This time, do it in five strides instead of four."

Clarke didn't recognize the dark bay. He was probably one of Jaha's latest imports. From what she could tell, the gelding was completely high strung and wild. No wonder Jaha put Bellamy on. The horse was nearly uncontrollable, taking the bit in his mouth and racing down the line.

Bellamy, however, didn't _once_ appear fazed. He was smiling like an idiot.

Clarke didn't get to see the rest of the course. Just as they picked up a canter again, she heard a flurry of high-pitched barking from the direction of the barn. A fuzzy, champagne colored ball of fur came streaking out, aiming straight at Mist.

"Chanel, no!" Clarke exclaimed, quickly taking up the slack in the lead line in case the mare spooked. "Shoo."

The dog, a dark eyed Pomeranian with a collar studded with Swarovski diamonds, actually stopped and stared at her. That gave its owner, a blandly pretty brunette, time to hurry out of the barn and scoop her up into her arms.

"Naughty girl," Harper cooed into her dog's ears, hugging her so tightly that she squirmed with annoyance. "Mommy told you not to run away!"

Clarke wanted to shake her, even though Mist never once looked up from grazing. It could've been worse – much worse. Dogs here were supposed to be kept on leashes. Harper and her vicious little dog thought they were the exception to that rule.

"So what's going on there?" Harper asked, turning to stare at the ring. "Oh. My. God. Is that Bellamy Blake?"

Clarke was tempted to let out an exasperated sigh.

"Yeah," she said, keeping an eye on Chanel as Mist continued to eat. "Jaha's watching him ride that new Thoroughbred from Ireland."

"I still don't understand why Jaha would hire someone from _that_ dump." Harper set her dog down as she started wiggling harder. The Pomeranian spotted a barn cat and took off after it, yapping at the top of her lungs.

Clarke could see Harper's lip curling and nose crinkling at the thought of Walden Farms having a connection to Phoenix Farms. Harper's parents had clawed their way into the privileged class in Washington D.C. on the healthy profits of their busy insurance company. As a result, she thought that anyone who couldn't afford a Devoucoux saddle wasn't worth her time.

"I have no idea," Clarke replied, looking down at Mist's head as she quietly munched on grass. "He sort of just showed up."

Harper snorted and tossed her long hair over her shoulder. "I overheard Wick and Jaha talking about it before Bravado went out this morning. Apparently Bellamy made a deal with him because Marcus Kane couldn't afford the horse."

What? Octavia didn't tell her anything about _that_.

"How long is supposed to stay?" Clarke asked, her voice hitching in her throat. Harper shot her a strange look.

"I have no idea, probably through the end of the show season." Harper studied her newly manicured nails. "Most of the girls can barely contain themselves."

Harper rolled her eyes.

"Like Bellamy hasn't already gotten in their pants." she added.

Clarke bit her lip. _Great_, more time for him to harass her about staying away from Octavia, _more time for him to get to know her._

"He's such a dick." Clarke mumbled a little more loudly then she intended.

"You've talked to him?" she asked, surprised.

"Yesterday."

"Well, he may be a dick _and_ a cowboy from Walden Farms, but he's hot," Harper tilted her head as she continued to watch the lesson. "Definite eye candy."

Clarke couldn't _dis_agree.

"Looks like they're finished." Harper said as Jaha spoke a few brisk words to Bellamy before walking in the opposite direction.

Clarke glanced at the ring. Bellamy had dismounted and was running up his stirrups. He patted the sweaty gelding on the neck and brought the reins up over his head. He turned and began to walk towards them, heading for the barn. When he noticed Clarke a few feet away he stopped his horse and grinned wickedly.

He didn't look twice at Harper.

"Hey there, Princess," Bellamy teased. "Enjoying the view?"

Harper gasped beside her, either in horrification or disbelief, she wasn't sure. Clarke chose to ignore her.

"Don't call me that." she grounded out. "_Ever_."

"Well, look who's not a morning person. Did you not get your biscuits and tea for breakfast?" he taunted.

Clarke had the sudden inclination to reach out and smack him with the lead line. Instead, she shot a hard look at him, hoping that his face would combust on the spot.

"What do you want?" Clarke spat.

"Besides your wonderful personality? I wanted to know if you've seen my sister today." he asked and sauntered closer. He was standing directly in front of her and she could feel the heat, left over from a hard work out, rolling off his body. She would seriously hurt him if that wild Thoroughbred got any closer to Mist.

"No I haven't –"

"Good." Bellamy interrupted. His eyes searched her face for something, what that something was Clarke didn't know.

"Bellamy Blake…" Harper drawled, crossing her arms. Bellamy's eye slid from Clarke's as he leaned back to stare at Harper.

She let out a silent, shaky breath. His presence – his nearness – it rattled something inside of her.

"Chanel, right?" Bellamy asked quizzically. The light behind his eyes revealed his understanding behind the question. That asshole, he knew her real name. He was such a –

Clarke couldn't contain her laughter, she snorted into the palm of her hand. Mist's head jerked up at the sound. Harper shot daggers in Clarke's direction as she continued to hide her wheezing.

For his part, Bellamy looked highly pleased at his ability to make Clarke laugh, a smug expression plastered across his face. Before any more damage could be done, Harper quickly spoke up.

"No, Chanel is my _Pomeranian_. I'm Harper." she said smiling as if nothing even happened.

"Oh I remember now, you're the girl I heard is throwing that party Saturday night." Bellamy commented.

"Yeah, my place at eight. Everyone from Phoenix Farms is welcome," Harper looked him up and down, her eyes sweltering with want. "I guess that includes you now, huh?"

"I don't know, Octavia –"

"She can come too," Harper said quickly and when she caught Bellamy glancing in Clarke's direction, she continued. "Clarke's coming, aren't you Clarke?"

Truthfully, Clarke really wasn't planning on it. She preferred to spend her Saturday nights snuggled up in bed with books. Partying wasn't her thing, although she got invited to them all time. Under Harper's harsh glare, she couldn't refuse – she was obviously put on the spot.

She snuck a glance a Bellamy. He was staring at her with a raised brow.

"Wouldn't miss it." Clarke replied a little too enthusiastically, turning towards Harper. The other girl squealed in delight.

"In that case," Bellamy interrupted. "I'll show up with a cold one."

Harper's eyes narrowed in disgust. "Beer? Are you kidding me?" She practically gagged. "If you come to my house with_ beer_, I'll have you thrown out. No, we only drink vodka and champagne."

Clarke rolled her eyes skyward. _Great_, keep making him think that everyone here is a stuck up rich bitch.

Oh, wait.

"That's right. I forgot that you Phoenix riders eat caviar for breakfast and Italian truffles for dinner." He snapped as if realizing for the first time who he was talking to. Clarke noticed his easygoing expression change into something much darker. He shook his head, brows furrowing.

And for once, Harper was dumbfounded and had nothing to say.

Bellamy shot one last glance at Clarke before tugging the reins and walking away.


	6. Chapter 6

Clarke normally never put on this much makeup or this much perfume, but going to an upscale house party required such things. She had dusted her eyes with a neutral eye shadow and darkened her blonde lashes with black mascara, making her already blue eyes appear bluer. Preferring not to get lipstick on everything or everyone, Clarke left her lips bare. She felt more natural that way – less of mask to hide behind.

Clarke took one last glance in the full length mirror. The black dress she wore hugged nearly every curve of her body. Other than that, the dress wasn't too revealing. It was a long sleeved lace dress that covered her cleavage and hugged her lower thighs nicely. The silver Louis Vuitton heels she was wearing made her sculpted legs look even better.

Thank God for horseback riding.

All those hours of flat work and jumping without stirrups really paid off. It paid off in the form of toned legs and a nice butt. What better way to show it off then in a Dolce&Cabbana cocktail dress?

Clarke quickly left her bedroom, but not before grabbing her father's watch from her vanity. Grabbing her clutch, she clasped on the watch as she rushed down the marble staircase, barely noticing her mother whom she almost collided with. Shocked, she teetered back on her heels, grasping the wrought iron banister.

"Mom," Clarke gasped. "I almost ran you over."

Abby Griffin, a prominent medical surgeon, stared at her daughter as if she was diagnosing a patient with a disease. She was dressed for work in scrubs and a tight ponytail.

"I think you would've wearing _those_ six inch heels," she replied, crossing her arms over her small chest. "Just where do you think you're going running off like a banshee?"

"I'm late to Harper's party." Clarke said quickly glancing down at her watch.

Well, at least she would be _fashionably_ late.

"Harper? She only lives a couple blocks away." Abby narrowed her eyes. "I don't know how I feel about letting you go to this party."

Clarke was tempted to roll her eyes. That certainly wouldn't go over well with her mom. In many ways, Clarke and Abby were so much alike. They were both strong-willed, passionate and stubborn. Her mother, however, was _way _too overprotective sometimes.

Clarke had been hoping to sneak out after her mom had left for the grave yard shift.

Looks like that wasn't happening.

"I've been to Harper's parties before." Clarke exclaimed, sliding past Abby and heading towards the front doors. She grabbed the car keys out of her clutch.

"Yes, but you know your father and I don't approve –"

"Mom," Clarke interrupted and turned around. "I can take care of myself."

Abby was silent for a moment. "I know sweetie," she said, her voice sounding resolute. "I just worry. It's what I'm supposed to do."

Clarke opened the door and smiled at her mom. "I know," she blew a kiss. "Love you."

She was about to lock the door behind her when Abby called out, "Remember no drinking! Call me if you need a ride!"

Clarke grinned. Like _that_ was going to happen.

. . .

Clarke wandered over toward the floor-to- ceiling wall of windows, ignoring the sounds of the party going on behind her. Practically everyone from Phoenix Farms was here, including others who weren't – like the sons and daughters of affluent politicians and businessmen. Clarke sipped her Smirnoff screwdriver with disinterest. She was seriously hoping that Octavia would be here. Someone new, someone who didn't care about her parents' occupation or fame, someone who could make her laugh.

Harper's million dollar house was right on College of Preachers North, and even though Clarke had been there many times, she never got tired of looking out over the city.

"Nice view, huh?" someone said from behind her.

She glanced back. The guy standing there was named Finn Collins – her ex-boyfriend. She hadn't seen him in weeks, not since she broke up with him, not since she had been avoiding him like the plague. Even now, Clarke could hardly look at him. The image of him and that girl Raven Reyes from Walden Farms hooking up on _her_ couch was seared into her memory.

"Yeah," she replied, her lips thin. "That's one thing you don't get living further out."

"Turn the music down!" Harper yelled from the other end of the room. "My parents will totally freak if they find out I had a party."

"Should've thought of that before you invited us, Harp!" a skinny guy with a mop of brown hair called out. Jasper. One of Clarke's oldest friends. With a shout of laughter, he and his best friend Monty Green slid down the wooden banister from the second floor.

Finn grinned, raising the glass concoction in his hand and hooting along with the rest of the partiers. Then he turned back to Clarke.

"It's not really a party unless Jasper and Monty are there, is it?" he commented.

"What do you want, Finn?" Clarke sighed and gazed out the window once more after making sure the dynamic duo didn't impale themselves on the banister. Washington D.C. glowed in the moonlight like a thousand fireflies.

"I wanted to apologize again –"

"There's no apologizing for what you did," Clarke snapped through gritted teeth. "What you did – it broke my heart."

"It was complicated, Clarke. I've known Raven for years and she was going through rough times with her parents, with everything." Finn hurried before Clarke could interrupt him again.

Clarke was silent. She was angry, beyond angry. Who did he think he was just coming up and talking to her after everything that happened between them? He was a lying, cheating, son of bitch and he took her heart and stomped all over it. After all, _she_ was the one who caught him in the act.

"Besides, it's not like you were ever there in the end," he added, his voice growing more resentful. "That damn horse taking up all your God damn time."

Clarke didn't think twice.

She dropped her screwdriver onto the floor and shoved Finn roughly up against the wall, amazed at her own strength. All conversation in the room ceased. Clarke had him by the collar of the shirt and as she held him, she could smell the stench of alcohol on him.

"_My what_?" she grounded out. "My what!"

Finn's eyes widened in horrification and darted around the room, desperately seeking help. No one moved, no one breathed.

No one was going to go against Clarke. No one was going to back Finn – not when it involved Clarke's horse.

Clarke's fisted his collar tightly, urging Finn to speak. She was going to murder him for bringing Mist into this argument.

"Your horse." he finally choked.

She was tempted to land a good punch to his temple when a female voice spoke up behind her. "Clarke?"

Clarke glanced over her shoulder. Octavia Blake was standing in the center of the room looking at her with widened, doe-like eyes. She came. Clarke looked back at Finn who was struggling in her hold. She dropped him and he fell to the floor, gasping.

"I _never_ want to see you again," Clarke hissed. "We are done!"

Staring down at him with contempt, she turned on her heel and brushed past Octavia who reached out and grabbed her arm. Clarke turned on a concerned girl whom was worried about her well-being.

"Are you alright?"

"Not now, Octavia." Clarke snapped and Octavia looked as if she had been physically slapped. She shrugged off her hand and made a B-line for the bathroom (which was miles away). Once she had left the room, the party erupted into a cacophony of conversations.

Clarke was thankful for the darkened hallway. It hid her tears.

And to think Clarke thought that Bellamy was a dick. He was nothing compared to Finn. Clarke loved her horses more than anything on this planet. Any attack on them was an attack on _her_.

"Clarke, what are you doing here?" a slurred male voice asked. John Murphy slinked out of a closed door followed by another girl clutching her clothes. The girl waved before quickly power walking down the hallway. "Have you come to see me?"

_Just what she needed _– a wasted John Murphy. Clarke closed her eyes, took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Look, Murphy," she began slowly. "I'm having a rough night –"

"Let me ease it up for you." he stuttered and stumbled toward her. Clarke tried to run, but he had her pinned. He hungrily ran his eyes down the length of her body. "That dress – dayum."

No, no, no, she didn't need this right now.

"Murphy." she warned.

Suddenly, his arm was around her waist, pulling her toward him. Startled, Clarke let out a strangled cry – not loud enough to be heard. "I have to go."

"It can wait." Murphy took step closer and Clarke took a step back. Her back was now fully flushed against the wall. He had her trapped between him and the paneled surface. "We were talking, and there's something I wanted to do."

Clarke glanced nervously down the hallway, too far away now from the party. Murphy was much stronger than Finn and he would be harder to get rid of, especially since he was this drunk. "What?"

He placed a massive hand on her shoulder and his grip was tight. He pressed himself against her and nuzzled Clarke's neck.

She froze. That was all it took. Murphy's mouth was on hers, tasting of vodka and breath mints. He made a sound and pushed forward. Clarke's back was against the wall before she could shove him back. He kept pushing forward, kissing her tightly sealed lips. Clarke couldn't breathe. Placing her hands on his chest, she shoved him away from her, wrenching her mouth free.

"Murphy, you've had way too much to drink." she said, dragging in air. She tried to wiggle free, but he was unmovable.

"No I haven't, I can still think, still move." his hand found its way up Clarke's dress.

"I didn't come here to –"

His sloppy, wet lips cut off her words. His tongue slipped into Clarke's mouth and she wanted to puke. Why did she talk her herself into coming to this party?

She managed to get her head free. "Murphy, stop!"

And then he _did _stop. Clarke sagged against the wall, dazed and breathless. There was the sound of someone hitting the ground and then a wounded cry.

Someone was bending over a sprawled Murphy, reaching down and picking him up by the scruff of his neck. "Do you have a problem with understanding simple English?"

Clarke recognized the deep, condescending voice. It was the same voice that Bellamy had used that day in the tack room. Deadly quiet, dangerously low. He was breathing heavily as he glared at the cowering boy.

"Man, I'm sorry," Murphy slurred, grasping Bellamy's wrist. "I thought she –"

"You thought what?" Bellamy lifted him onto his feet. "That no meant yes?"

"No! Yes! I thought –"

Bellamy Blake punched him hard in the head and Murphy dropped to the floor – the second boy to do so that night.

Clarke stepped forward cautiously. "What did you do?"

He didn't look at her, his eyes trained on Murphy. "It was either this or I'd kill him."

Clarke poked his arm and swallowed. "You sure he isn't dead?"

"Should he be?" Bellamy asked, gazing at her.

Before Clarke could say anything, Murphy moaned on the ground and clutched at his head. He slowly raised himself up onto his legs and stared groggily at the two of them. He blinked – twice. He stumbled, cupping the massive bruise forming on the side of his face. "Shit."

Bellamy pushed Murphy back. "Get the fuck out of here, and I swear if you so much look at her again, it will be the last thing you do."

Murphy went three shades whiter as he wiped his hand over his bloodied nose. His eyes darted from Clarke to Bellamy. "Clarke, I'm sorry –"

Bellamy growled.

Murphy spun around and took off, stumbling and limping across the hallway. Dead silence fell between Clarke and Bellamy. Even the music from the grand living room seemed to have become muted.

"What…what are you doing here?" Clarke asked, turning towards him.

"I was invited, Princess." he replied his voice somewhat distant.

"No," she corrected. "What are you doing _here_?"

Bellamy paused a moment and leaned against the wall, facing her. "Octavia said you were upset and that she couldn't find you anywhere. She thought you had left, but I saw that your car was still parked in the driveway."

Bellamy – wait, Bellamy knew what her car looked like? How could he have possibly known what Clarke's car looked like?

"Oh, Well, thank you." she finally managed to say, drawing a deep breath.

Bellamy cursed again and then he was moving closer, dropping something that smelled like – alfalfa? He gently placed his jacket over Clarke's shoulders. "Here," he said gruffly. "Put this on. It's cold outside."

Flushing, Clarke slipped her arms into the jacket. Tears were clogging her throat now. She was angry at Murphy, angry at Finn – at herself. More than that, she was embarrassed. Rescued by Bellamy Blake? Right now he might not be throwing it in her face, but there was always tomorrow.

Then, he did something unexpected, his fingers brushed lightly over Clarke's cheek, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen loose behind her ear.

He pulled back quickly, as if burned, and coughed. "Come on," he said huskily.

Clarke lifted her head. There was an unexpected softness in his eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Was this the Bellamy from a few days ago? The angry, arrogant Bellamy Blake?

"I'm taking you home."


	7. Chapter 7

Clarke nodded not because she particularly wanted to leave with Bellamy, but because she was too exhausted to argue otherwise. And this time, his statement wasn't an arrogant command or assumption. Just simple words. After the disaster that happened and the fact that she felt violated for the second time that night, she didn't protest.

Bellamy Blake turned on his heel without another word and walked toward the front door. Then it struck her. "Wait."

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. Clarke teetered on her heels as she looked down the hallway leading to the great room. Laughter and music floated down the hall. Everyone had already forgotten about her. Did no one care that she seemed to have disappeared?

"Clarke."

"Shouldn't we say goodbye?" she asked, her voice a light whisper as she stared.

If the thought had crossed Bellamy's mind, it didn't occur to him to say anything. "Do you want to go say goodbye to _them_?" Bellamy replied to her question with a question, a slight snarl on his lips.

"What about your sister?"

"Octavia can take care of herself for the few minutes that I'm gone."

"But –"

Bellamy was in her face in the blink of an eye. "O isn't my problem right now."

Then he took her arm. His grasp wasn't tight, but it was firm. They didn't talk as he led her through the brisk night air toward his truck parked near the main road. It was the only non-Mercedes, non-BMW on the entire street. The rusted red truck stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of black and white luxury automobiles. They passed Clarke's own car, a white Tesla model S. She would have to call Harper later and tell her it was still here.

When they reached his truck, he let go of her arm and opened the passenger door. Clarke climbed in, making sure her dress didn't rise up. She blushed deeply when, out of the corner of her eye, she caught Bellamy staring at her legs. He noticed her watching him. Bellamy coughed, quickly averted his eyes and slammed the door shut. Pulling out his phone, he made his way around the front side of the car.

Bellamy climbed into the driver's seat, passing Clarke a sheltered look. "I let Octavia know I was taking you home. She worries."

Nodding, she started yanking on the seatbelt, but it wouldn't move. Like the rest of the truck, it was probably rusted. All her frustration rose up, and she pulled on it hard. "Dammit!"

"Hey, hey," Bellamy said, leaning over and prying her fingers off. "Be nice to Daisy. What has she ever done to you?"

In such a small space, there wasn't much room to move around and before Clarke could protest, Bellamy was already tugging on the seatbelt. His jaw grazed her cheek and his arm skimmed hers. They were quick touches, all accidental Clarke told herself, but she found it hard to breathe nonetheless.

"You named your truck Daisy?" she asked in a soft, willowy voice. She hadn't meant to sound like this, but Bellamy's nearness was doing strange things to her insides.

Bellamy got the seatbelt unstuck and brought it across her stomach, the back of his knuckles grazed over the front of her dress. Clarke jerked in her seat.

He lifted his head, startled. And she was just as surprised. "Sure, why not? Daisy's been my partner in crime for years," he said quietly, although his voice sounded no different. _Damn him_. "I bought her with my own blood, sweat and tears."

Their mouths were nearly touching. His breath was warm and sweet. Intoxicating. His gaze dropped to Clarke's lips, and her heart did all kinds of crazy. She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands through his inky hair. Would it be soft? Would it run through her fingers like oil? Clarke wondered –

_Shit_, what was she thinking? This was _Bellamy Blake_ not Prince Charming for God's sake. Granted, he did save her from a hideous fate, but Clarke told herself she could've rescued herself – eventually.

However, neither one of them could pull back, not for what seemed like an eternity.

And then Bellamy clicked in the seatbelt and returned to his own seat, breathing raggedly. He clutched the steering wheel for several strained minutes while Clarke tried to remember how important it was to take normal breaths and not gulps of air.

"Well," Clarke began, clutching the seat beneath her as if it were her life force. "Unless Daisy is your wing woman and having seatbelts get stuck on a regular basis is all part of some diabolical plot, I would highly recommend getting new ones."

The corners of Bellamy's mouth quirked upwards as he stared ahead of him. "Damn, there goes my entire plan."

Clarke gave a short laugh. Before Bellamy started the car, he cranked down his window and leaned his arm on the sill. "She's as tough as nails, strong too. Never trailered a horse with anything else." he added, slapping the exterior of the truck.

He put his keys into the ignition and started the truck. It roared to life with only a small protest and slight wobble. Clarke only hoped she would make it home in one piece. Pulling out from the curb, Bellamy headed out of Harper's gated community.

"I always wanted a truck." Clarke commented, although she didn't know why and she didn't look at Bellamy as she said it.

"Why don't you just buy one?" She could hear the contempt in his voice. Of course, he probably thought that whatever Clarke wanted she got. He didn't know half the story.

"My parents, they, they like to keep up appearances. I guess, in a way, they have to," she saw Bellamy cringe and rushed on. "I know how that sounds, I don't agree with any of it. My parents dictate my entire life."

Bellamy was gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles began to turn white. After driving through the gate and getting past the guard, Bellamy stopped the car. "Which way?"

It took a moment for Clarke to figure out what he was talking about. He had completely ignored her previous statement. He looked over at her, an annoyed expression on his face. Realizing that he was asking for directions to her house, she told him. They drove for several minutes in a strained silence.

"It must be nice," he remarked. "Having parents that care about you."

Clarke glanced over at him. "What about Kane? I'm sure he loves you and Octavia and your mom –"

"My mom bounced the second she could," he snapped and Clarke shrunk backwards at his tone. He looked at her and quickly bit his lip. "Sorry."

Clarke shook her head and stared out the window, not expecting Bellamy to continue.

"Kane came into our lives long after my mom had left and Octavia and I were mostly grown. He – he does what he can, but he doesn't love us, not in the way that dads' are supposed to."

Clarke didn't say anything. She didn't know _what_ to say. How could you console someone who you barely even knew? The city lights blurred together in an erotic light show as they flew down the road and Clarke didn't know if it was due to the alcohol or her own exhaustion. She sighed and leaned her elbow against the sill, closing her eyes. The cool night air coming in through Bellamy's window was a nice reprieve.

"Do you normally have such a fun time at parties?" Bellamy asked suddenly.

Clarke snorted, her eyes still closed. "Believe it or not, I'm not a huge fan."

_Silence_.

"I never did peg you as a partier."

_That_ got Clarke's attention. She opened her eyes and angled herself towards him. "What _did _you have me pegged as?" she demanded, slightly curiously, slightly offended.

"I can't tell you all my secrets, Princess." he replied, waggling his brows. Clarke rolled her eyes and leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms.

"By the way, next time you get invited to one of Harper's parties, don't wear a flannel." she exclaimed.

"What's wrong with my flannel?" he replied indignant, glancing down at his red and black checkered shirt.

"Nothing," Clarke hurried and blushed when he shot her a knowing look. "It's just that flannels are too… cowboyish for an upscale party."

"I thought that girls were into that sort of thing – roping cows… _riding broncos_…"

Clarke knew when to keep her mouth shut. She didn't trust herself enough to reply, but she had to admit, Bellamy looked good in a flannel, more than good actually. The way the red offset his dark curls, the way it strained across his shoulders. She bit her lip. God, she was doing it again.

Bellamy spun the wheel and they turned onto her street. Clarke directed him to the gate and gave him the code, hoping that her mom wouldn't come over the speaker. She should still be working at the hospital. The wrought iron gate swung open without incident. He drove up the long driveway without saying a word and pulled into the roundabout. Clarke was about to climb out herself, but Bellamy came around and opened the door for her.

She stood up, but he didn't move away from the car door. He stayed where he was, one arm on the door the other one on the truck's roof. Clarke was pinned between him and the truck. Even in her heels she was still a head shorter than him.

"Thanks, for tonight." she said.

"This doesn't change anything you know." Bellamy replied casually.

Did this boy not know anything of personal space? Clarke pressed back against the truck. "What?"

"You still can't be friends with my sister," he said. "I don't want her around this." Bellamy gestured to her house and was obviously referring to the party.

She narrowed her eyes at Bellamy. "You know what –"

"Clarke? Clarke, honey, is that you?"

_Her mom_.

Oh, for the love of God. Clarke turned over her shoulder and saw her mom standing in the front doorway still dressed in scrubs. Bellamy leaned backwards, smiling wickedly. _That _was never a good sign_._

Her eyes went from Clarke to Bellamy, completely misinterpreting everything. She looked apprehensive at best. "Are you one of Clarke's barn friends?"

Clarke snorted. _Barn friends_, her mom never met any of her "barn friends" unless they happened to be related to a wealthy family or influential politician. Bellamy grinned. He had perfect white, straight teeth. "Yeah, my name is Bellamy Blake."

"Abby Griffin," she glanced at me. "Would you like to come inside? I'm brewing some tea before bed and I would just _love _to find out how you know my daughter."

Clarke ducked under Bellamy's arm and stood next to him looking very uncomfortable. "That's really nice of you." He replied and elbowed her, and not very gently. "Although, I don't really drink tea, but maybe we should go inside and finish talking about our –"

"No," Clarke said, glaring at him. "That won't be necessary."

"Talking about what?" Her mom said through a forced smile.

"Nothing, we weren't talking about _anything_." Clarke grounded out and then to Bellamy through gritted teeth, "He was just leaving. Weren't you, Bellamy?"

"I was just telling Clarke here that we should go riding together tomorrow." Bellamy dropped his arm over her shoulders.

"That is so sweet of you." Abby said, crossing her arms.

Clarke wrapped her arm around his narrow waist, digging her fingers into his side. "Yeah, that's sweet of you, Bellamy."

He sucked in a sharp breath and let it out slowly. "You know what they say about Walden riders…"

"Walden riders?" her mom rushed and flashed her eyes to Clarke's. She thought that she was going to combust on the spot under her mom's glare.

_Shit_.

Clarke dropped her arm and wiggled out from underneath Bellamy's. "Mom, he's…"

"I'll talk to _you_ inside." Abby started back inside, but not before glancing at Bellamy one last time. "It was nice to meet you."

_Yeah, right_.

Bellamy smiled. "You too Mrs. Griffin."

The moment her mom shut the door behind her, Clarke whirled around and pushed him, but he was like a brick wall. "You jerk."

Grinning, he went around to the driver's side. "I'll see you at the barn, Princess."

"I hate you." she hissed.

"The feeling's mutual." Bellamy said as he ducked behind the steering wheel. Clarke walked around the truck without looking back and climbed the steps to the front door. In no way shape or form was she ready to face her mother.

Bellamy Blake was insufferable.


End file.
